Blood Roses
by sanityforlosers
Summary: Harry gets a rose identical to the one he got so many years ago. You find how the years have changed him. Hints of HD


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned, or even hinted at. If I did I wouldn't be posting things here I would be getting them published. All of the characters belong to the lovely J.K Rowling, and I do not intend to steal them.  
  
A/N: As I was writing this I realized that it was turning out sort of like In The Forests of The Night by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, it was not intentional! Now on with the story.  
  
Blood Roses  
  
The last time we met he gave me a rose, one just like the one sitting on my bed now. It was exquisite. I thought that it was the deepest red, but then I realized that it was black. He had given me a black rose, one with white edges. I stared at it for a moment, turning it in my hands, watching as the light played over the petals. It seemed that the light only made it darker.  
  
::Flashback::  
  
"Where ever did you find such a rose? Not only is it beautiful, but also it's the deepest black, and with the white edges," I said as an inquiry.  
"It's a blood rose, it shows the true nature of a person. Your blood makes it grow. It shows you the true nature of a person, no matter what they seem like on the outside," he answers; gazing at the rose he has just given me.  
"Whose rose is this?" I ask  
"Yours," was his simple reply.  
"No, I meant whose blood rose is this. Whose blood grew this rose?"  
"You. That rose was grown in your blood."  
"What? N-no, this can't be my rose. This, this can't be mine, my true nature isn't dark," I manage to stutter out. It's all I can do to try to stay coherent.  
"But it is, have you noticed the white edges? That means that you put on a façade that you are noble and righteous, but on the inside you are dark, please, don't hide from it. Did you also notice how it almost seems red? That symbolizes that most think that you are just darker than the rest of us, but if look closely, you discover the truth. There is only one person with a truly black rose, and that's You-Know-Who."  
"Who, Voldemort?" I ask back, taunting. Not wanting to believe any of this. I smile as he flinches at the sound of Voldemort's name.  
"Yes, I think that it may be because he passed on some traits to you when you defeated him when you were small."  
"I doubt it," I say coldly, "you say that the rose reflects the soul, rather than traits. What does your rose look like?" I ask, wanting to remove the topic of discussion from me. He pulls out another rose out of his robe. It is black, white and gray. It was black at the edges of the petals, and it slowly faded to gray, and then faded to white near the base of the petals.  
  
::End Flashback::  
  
I give a wry smile at the irony of it all. I was always perceived as the light one, the golden boy. He was always silver. He always looked like the lighter of the two, colour wise, and it turns out that it was because he was. He was always perceived as being the dark one, the one who would join Voldemort and wreak havoc everywhere he went. Well, it seems as if they were wrong. About a lot of things. I was always supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding world. How can they expect these things from me?  
  
There was a Great War, and no one really won. Both sides suffered causalities, but the light side feels as if they had suffered the greatest blow of all. They lost their golden boy. I can tell you that no one was more surprised than Dumbledore when he came to fight against Voldemort and saw me. He saw me, not fighting against Voldemort, but standing by his side. While Dumbledore was fighting Voldemort, I got bored, so I just finally killed Voldemort once and for all. Then I started to duel against Dumbledore. He kept asking me what I was doing. I said that I was picking up where everyone else had left off. Everyone else who had a widespread dream had no one to carry it on. But see Voldemort had gained an ally in his last few moments. I had picked up where he had left off. Except I didn't single anyone out. I was, or should I say still am, bent on world domination. So far it seems to be working.  
  
I still look back at that one rose, and now the near identical one sitting here on my bed. There is no note, but I know it is from Draco. He is a white hat now. He fights for the light, against me. I guess that Draco was trying to say, "I told you so" or trying to remind me of my past with the single rose. My past when we were still lovers. My past when I was still fighting, so righteously, for the light. My past before I became a killer, and my past before I became the new Dark Lord. Or maybe it's both. Or perchance, it has no meaning, and I'm just looking for something that isn't there. I think back to his rose, and I laugh. It's a cold laugh, without humour. I laugh thinking how these blood roses told our future. I laugh at my indignation at possibly being dark. I laugh at my folly for trying to resist something so big. And I laugh for what may come, and what has already come. Draco was right all those years ago. The roses really do tell you your true nature, no point in resisting, eh? Ah, everyone should see their own blood rose at least once. As I ponder this, fingering the rose's stem, and the thorns, I can't help but wonder where Draco got my blood to grow so many roses. I rise from the bed and snatch the rose off of my bed, and strode over the vase that has the rose I received so many years ago. A thorn pricks me as I put the new with the old, and as I lick the blood away I cannot help but remember better times, times when everything was alright. Now in these dark times, I still can't marvel at how my rose has stayed the same, with the white border and all. It must mean that someone out there still believes that I put on the façade of fighting for the light. It makes no sense, but now, when does anything? I walk over to my bed, fall in, and then wrenched the black velvet hangings shut. As I stare at the canopy above me, I allow myself to remember my past, and the face that gave me that first blood rose. 


End file.
